


All I Have To Do Is Dream

by alexislord



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:05:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexislord/pseuds/alexislord
Summary: Richie and Bill are roommates, and Richie's crush on Bill is worse than ever. He's even having dreams that they're hooking up. Or are they dreams?





	1. Chapter 1

“Your freckles are b-b-beautiful,” Bill proclaimed, reaching over to Richie with his entire body, half on top of him, to touch them with his finger tips. 

 

Richie closed his eyes as Bill did, savoring the sensation, the touch mixing well with the buzz from the alcohol he’d consumed at the party. He opened his eyes as Bill was pulling his hand away, but grabbed it, returning Bill’s hand to his face.

 

“Leave it, I like it there,” Richie said, his heart starting to race as Bill followed his instruction. Richie saw a look in Bill’s eyes he couldn’t place, even if he’d been sober. 

 

Bill left his hand on Richie’s face, but moved himself on the couch to be fully over his roommate, their faces close enough the Bill could feel Richie’s breath on his skin. He stayed there, not making any move further, waiting for Richie.

 

He didn’t have to wait long, though. Richie quickly put his hands behind Bill’s neck and pulled him down, their lips meeting, softly at first, but growing more feverish and needy with each moment. Bill pushed it further, licking into Richie’s mouth, silently asking permission, and Richie eagerly let him in. He could taste the last drink Bill had at the party still lingering in his mouth and he was surprised how, despite the fact that Richie didn’t like beer much, it tasted amazing at the moment. 

 

Richie whined a little as Bill stopped kissing him, until he felt sloppy kisses on his neck and upper chest, his eyes falling shut at the pleasure of it. 

 

Suddenly, there was a clang nearby of a pan falling down, and Richie woke up, gasping as he did, the noise giving him a headache and what felt like a heart attack at the same time. He groaned and threw his head back on the couch, hoping he’d just fall asleep again. 

 

“S-s-sorry Richie!” Bill called, walking over to the couch, looking over at Richie, whose whole face was scrunched up in irritation. “I was trying to be quiet, but then p-p-pan slipped out of my hand.”

 

Richie opened his eyes slowly, all the light in the room making them involuntarily close again. But he finally adjusted enough to see Bill smiling down at him, looking fresh faced and chipper. 

 

And, as Richie closed his eyes again, he felt terrible. Not only from his hangover and jealousy that Bill was fine, but Richie felt terrible because of his own stupid mind. Why was it torturing him? Richie had always found Bill attractive, daydreamed about kissing him, but that had multiplied tenfold since they’d moved in together. He’d be up in the morning and see Bill shirtless, eating cereal, and have to keep himself from coming up behind him, putting his arms around Bill, and kissing his neck. 

 

Plus, Bill was popular with the ladies. He’d grown into his looks and and had a slight, but muscular frame that Richie saw girls rake their eyes over. Which he couldn’t blame them for, he did it on a regular basis at home. But when they did it, especially in front of him, Richie would get grumpy and make terrible decisions. 

 

Like the night before, Bill and Richie had gone to a party and Richie had seen Bill being literally cornered by a sorority chick. Bill was nice and patient and so he’d talk to her and smile, but Richie could see the predatory gaze she had trained on Bill. So Richie would distract himself by getting a drink...and another...and another. Until he was so smashed that he was sure Bill had taken him home, Richie had passed out on the couch immediately, and Bill probably didn’t want to wake him by moving him. 

 

As Bill handed him a water and something to calm his throbbing head, Richie made himself a promise that he wouldn’t drink anymore when he went to parties with Bill. This was definitely not worth it. 

 

“You feeling any better, R-richie?” Bill asked, sitting on the coffee table across from him. 

 

Nodding, Richie looked up at his roommate, who smiled as soon as Richie did. Man, Richie hated living with him sometimes. Having to look at his sweet, caring face, his dimples and his beautiful, clear eyes was nearly torturous. Especially after his dream, which had felt so real. Richie wanted to lean over, kiss Bill like they had been in his head, see if it felt the same...or if it was better. But he wasn’t drunk enough to do that anymore. 

 

“A little. You look downright chipper today, Billy Boy. I thought you drank just as much as I did,” Richie grumbled, still a little bitter. 

 

“I don’t think so. By the end of the night, you were really knocking them back.”

 

_ Because of you _ , Richie thought, but had the sense not to say. Richie stood up, stumbling a little at first, but stayed on his feet and made his way towards the fridge. He reached in almost blindly, grabbing for what he assumed was a rootbeer, before taking a swig and being hit with the nasty tang of alcohol in what was clearly a beer. 

 

“Ugh, what the fuck is this?” he asked, more to the universe than Bill. It was gross, which didn’t surprise Richie, since beer wasn’t usually his thing. But it also tasted familiar.

 

“Oh sorry, I should have warned you. I brought home a c-c-case last night from the party,” Bill said, slipping his arms into his backpack as he made for the door. “I l-l-liked it and nobody else drank it, so they s-s-sent it home with me.”

 

Richie suddenly felt very sober, remembering Bill with that beer in his hand as the sorority girl ran her fingers up and down his arm, taking swigs whenever he looked uncomfortable. Had something actually happened last night with Bill and Richie? 

 

Before he could ask Bill, if that had even been an option, Richie heard him call you, “see you later, Rich,” as he closed the door behind him. 

 

Richie looked at the clock and saw that it was already 11:30. No way he was going to class today. He’d already missed two of them that morning and his next one started in thirty minutes. Why did college students have to have a party on weeknights? 

 

Richie dumped out the beer he definitely wasn’t going to drink, but the feeling stayed fixed in his mind that maybe he hadn’t been dreaming at all. He poured himself some coffee, relishing in the bitter, acrid taste and how quickly it got him over the hump from hungover, to groggy, to properly sober. 

 

Stumbling into his room, Richie considered just getting changed and going to get something to eat, but a quick whiff of his own stench let him know a shower was a must. He headed for the bathroom, figuring he should probably brush his teeth, while he was at it. But when Richie looked in the mirror, glasses bringing his reflection into clear view, he could hardly believe his eyes.

 

Bruises made their way down his neck and onto his collarbone. He poked at one, and winced, the skin still tender. Hickeys. Richie knew that’s what they must be. And he closed his eyes, touching his collarbone, remembering Bill’s lips moving down there, before he passed out. 

 

Richie felt his heartbeat quicken as he found the proof that it hadn’t been a dream at all. Elation filled him and he touched each bruise, smiling at the thought that Bill had put time and effort into each stamp, claiming the territory as his own. 

 

But then, Richie’s spastic mind did what it always did. It fucked him up. Bill seemed pretty sober that morning, even sober enough to take care of Richie’s hangover and to go to class. But he hadn’t said anything, or seemed any different. 

 

Did Bill not remember? Did he regret it? Had he just not had enough time to talk? Richie didn’t know, but it was all he could think about through his shower, his pacing, and his three cigarettes to calm his nerves. They barely made a dent, though.

 

Trying to study, Richie read the same page of his text book for what felt like the fourteenth time, tapping his pencil on the table all the while, waiting for the door to finally open. When he heard the lock click, Richie forced himself to stay in his seat and not run to it. 

 

He turned to see Bill, closing the door behind him and smiling a little as he saw Richie looking. Richie grinned back automatically, and hoped that this was a good omen for what he hoped would be a clarifying conversation.

 

“Hey Big Bill,” Richie said, shutting his book and heading towards Bill. “how was partially hungover class today?”

 

Bill laughed a little, and Richie tried not to let it show how pleasant he found the sound on his face. “It was alright. I started getting g-groggy at the end, but my liquid fuel helped,” he said, holding up an empty energy drink can before tossing it in the garbage. 

 

He headed towards his room, and Richie followed behind, trying to decide if he should just bring up the hickeys himself or if he should wait for a sensible opening. Richie really didn’t want to make their dynamic uncomfortable, Bill was his best friend, and they lived together. But as he saw Bill drop his backpack and immediately go looking for another shirt, Richie’s mind shifted away for his hyperfixation. 

 

“Are you...getting ready for a date?” Richie asked. Normally, he would have teased his friend about it more, but the shock of the realization made the question honest.

 

Bill dug around in his dresser, before finally pulling out a shirt he deemed worthy. “Yeah,” he said, removing the shirt he was wearing in a swift motion, “you know Jade, that girl I’ve been trying to ask out who keeps rejecting me?”

 

Richie rolled his eyes immediately, wondering why Bill was wasting his time with some girl who was clearly not worth the effort. He was also grateful for the excuse to avert his eyes from Bill’s naked torso. “Yeah, I recall you mentioning her once, or fifty times.”

 

Bill glared at Richie’s sarcastic remark before continuing. “Well, I guess I asked her out again last night, although I don’t really remember doing it, and today in class, she said she wanted to have dinner tonight.”

 

Richie’s heart sank and he felt like he might physically deflate into the ground on the spot. Not only was Richie’s crush going out with someone else, but clearly the make out had meant nothing to Bill at all, if he was going on a date with Jade the day after it happened. Richie reached up and touched the bruises again, this time the bite of pain feeling like another jab to his heart, the pocks making him feel tainted and used. 

 

Bill had finished dressing and was heading towards the door. Richie followed quickly, confused. “Are you leaving right now? It’s only 2:30.”

 

Bill nodded and said, “I know, but we’re going to the city, so it’s like a two hour drive. I want to take her some p-place nice.”

 

Richie looked down, not replying, before snapping back up, when he heard the door being opened again, as Bill left in a hurry. His eyes grew wide, and he rushed over, grabbing Bill’s arm before he went out the door. 

 

“Wait, Bill, I needed to ask you something real quick.” Bill stopped, waiting for Richie to continue. 

 

“Do you know who gave me these?” Richie asked, gesturing to his neck. “I got a little drunker than I intended and my memory was a little fuzzy this morning, but clearly I had a good time with  _ someone _ .”

 

Bill looked at the bruises for a moment, face stoic, before flatly replying, “no, I don’t know. Must have been someone at the party. I’ll see you later.”

 

A sudden, forceful heart palpitation followed by what felt like he might be literally falling to pieces is what Richie felt as the door closed, the sound echoing in his mind. 


	2. When I Want You And All Your Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Bill still haven't discussed the 'incident' three weeks ago, but it's a New Year!

It had been three weeks since the ‘incident’, and was New Years and that meant party central when in college. Richie had stuck to his pledge to himself not to drink at parties with Bill anymore. Bill, however, had taken it upon himself to drink for the both of them. Which was how Richie wound up almost carrying his taller-by-three-inches roommate into their apartment before midnight had even struck.

 

Bill whined the whole way back to their apartment, turning into a toddler when he’d had enough to drink, begging Richie to take him back to the party. Richie threw more than placed Bill down onto the couch, the weight of him too much for Richie after walking the three blocks to campus with Bill leaning on him the entire time. 

 

“Well, if you wanted to stay, you should haven’t drank so fucking much and, I wouldn’t care so much, but I need you here to help me pay our bills,” Richie said, his worry coming out as a callous tone and a detached comment.

 

“Aww, how sw-w-weet of y-y-y-you,” Bill sputtered out, the alcohol magnifying his stutter. 

 

“Why did you want to stay so bad? That party fucking sucked and was only getting shittier as the night went on.”

 

Bill sighed dramatically, turning to Richie. “Because R-r-r-r-richie, it’s N-n-new Years Eve, alm-m-most midnight and I’ve n-never had a New Years kiss before. And I w-w-want one.”

 

Now it was Richie’s turn to sigh. “Well, you’ll have to wait until next year, then. Also who were you planning on kissing? Jade wasn’t even there.” 

 

The lack of Bill’s girlfriend’s attendance was the only reason Richie had agreed to go. Being around them was painful and nauseating. 

 

“We b-b-broke up, l-last week,” Bill stated as fact, almost no emotion in his voice. 

 

Richie’s eyebrows shot up as he processed what he was saying. “Oh, I’m sorry, Big Bill. You seem to be handling it rather okay, though.”

 

“Yeah, I b-broke up with her. Sh-sh-she kept trying to get m-m-me to change,” Bill said, leaning towards Richie to cuddle up to him, clearly tired and looking for a pillow. 

 

“Fuck her!”

 

Bill laughed loudly at Richie’s outburst, but quickly agreed, smiling. “Yeah, fuck her.”

 

Gasping, Richie pretended to be shocked. “Bill Denbrough! We’re gonna have to start calling you Trashmouth, if you keep that shit up.”

 

Bill laughed again, and Richie could feel it on his shoulder, as Bill snuggled into him and turned his head up towards his roommate’s. “What t-t-time is it, R-r-richie?”

 

“It’s thirty seconds to midnight.”

 

“Kiss m-me,” Bill said, licking his lips right after the words left his mouth. 

 

The sight was so inviting that Richie had to stop himself from just outright obeying the command. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re  _ very _ drunk, Denbrough. I may not be Eddie, but I’d still rather you not barf in my mouth.”

 

Bill huffed, annoyed, and dug his head into Richie’s shoulder. “Richie, pl-l-lease, I don’t wanna h-have to w-w-wait another year. It’ll b-b-be really quick.”

 

And Richie wanted to reject him again, wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to carry Bill to bed and make him drink a glass of water before he fell asleep. But Bill looked up at him with clear blue, pleading eyes, literally begging to be kissed, and Richie couldn’t stop himself. 

 

Placing his lips softly on Bill’s as the year ticked over, Richie planned on just planting as kiss or two and then making his friend sleep off the hangover he earned that night. But as Richie pulled away, Bill sat up, hungrily kissing him, and Richie stayed there, letting him, until he felt Bill’s tongue trying to part his lips. 

 

Richie pulled away, standing up, and sighing loudly, as he paced for a moment. Bill fell over on the couch trying to chase Richie’s lips, whimpering when he realized what had happened. “Bill, you need to go to bed, let’s go.”

 

“Awww, R-r-richie, I don’t wanna g-g-g-go. Can’t you j-j-just sit back d-down?” Bill asked, trying to be flirtatious, but his slurring stutter and his half open eyes were making it impossible. 

 

“No, Bill, you’re very drunk, like I already said, and you need to go to bed.  _ Now, _ ” Richie emphasized, helping his roommate to his feet, Bill’s arm slung around him, as they stumbled to his bed. 

 

Bill dropped onto it, but before Richie could turn to go, Bill grabbed him and tugged on his arm. “S-s-stay in here with m-m-me, Richie. It’ll b-b-b-be like a slumb-b-ber party.”

 

Richie’s mind flashed back to one of his and Bill’s slumber parties as kids in Derry, the one where Bill had been his first kiss. Richie had been whining about how all the other losers had been kissed and he was the only one with virgin lips still, which he told Bill to keep in confidence. Bill, ever the good friend, offered to be his first kiss. 

 

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t hoped that would be Bill’s response, but Richie was surprised and excited when Bill actually volunteered. It had been a simple kiss, slow and chaste, but something that Richie would think of often, basking in the glow of his younger self’s joy.

 

The way Bill was grinning at him now, and drawing designs on Richie’s arm with his finger, Richie wondered if they were remembering the same thing. But he pulled away from Bill and shook his head. “No, that’s alright, I have a bed. I’m going to get you a glass of water and then you’re going to sleep.”

 

As Richie left the room, he heard Bill whine again but, by the time Richie had retrieved a glass of water, some painkillers, and a bowl in case Bill couldn’t make it to the toilet in time to vomit, Bill was already sleeping. Richie left the supplies, and went to his room, grabbing a pillow and immediately screaming into it. 

 

He had so many feelings running around in his head, and so many questions, Richie was sure he wouldn’t get to sleep. 


	3. When I Feel Blue In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys still haven't talked and Bill's problem seems to be getting worse and worse.

Finally, after hours of thinking, Richie’s brain had tired itself out and he was able to fall asleep. And, luckily for him, it was the weekend, so he had time to sleep in. Richie wouldn’t get to, though. He woke up for the second time in as many weeks to a loud thump in their apartment. It jolted Richie awake, clearing the sleepy fog he’d normally have in the morning instantly.

 

Leaving his room to investigate, Richie found Bill, sitting on the floor outside of his room, bottle of liquor in hand. His roommate’s face was tense as Bill held on to one of his elbows with his free hand. Richie dropped to the floor, concern for his friend’s well being pushing out any other thoughts he might have had. 

 

“Bill, are you alright? What the fuck just happened? Did you fall?” Richie asked each question rapid fire, not leaving enough of a pause for Bill to even answer. 

 

Looking up with squinted eyes, Bill’s face broke out into a lazy grin as soon as he saw his friend in front of him. “Hey R-r-richie. Y-yeah, it was weird. I was w-w-walking and then I was j-j-just on the g-ground. Boom.”

 

For a moment, Richie looked Bill over, making sure he didn’t have any major injuries or anything that needed immediate attention. And, from the looks of him, Bill would have a few bruises and be sore, but fine. As he spoke, though, slow and with a heavy, slurring stutter, Richie’s eyes went wide, concern written all over his face.

 

“Have you been drinking? During the day? Alone in your room?” Richie asked, waiting at the end this time for a response. 

 

Bill smiled and nodded, Richie’s tone clearly not connect with his inebriated senses. “Yup,” he answered simply. 

 

Richie knew how Bill got when he was drunk. He turned into a whiny toddler; he was easy to trick, but would scream if he didn’t feel like he was getting his way. So Richie started with a tactic he thought might work to his advantage. 

 

“Big Bill, you fucking jerk!” Richie responded, smacking Bill playfully, a fake but convincing grin on his face. “You got a secret stash in your room you’ve been hiding?”

 

“Mayyyybeee,” Bill sang more than spoke. His eyes were shut, but he was smiling victoriously. 

 

“Well, why don’t I escort you back to your room and you can show it to me? I want us to have a good time together, but you’re already started and I gotta catch up,” Richie said, his hand resting on Bill’s knee. 

 

Sighing, Bill opened his eyes to see Richie’s staring into him, his gaze slowly falling to his roommate’s hand on his knee. Bill put his hand over Richie’s, nodding and smiling at him, as Richie rose, pulling Bill up with him. They waddled back to Bill’s room, Richie’s arm around Bill’s waist to keep him propped up, Bill’s arm around Richie’s shoulders. They only ran into the wall once on the way, which Richie considered a victory. 

 

Richie laid Bill down, not surprised this time when Bill tried to keep him on the bed with him. He hated what he was about to do, but Richie reminded himself it was for Bill’s own good. Bill tugged on his arm, pulling Richie on top of him, and Richie let him, straddling his drunk roommate, who grinned and grabbed two handfuls of Richie’s shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. 

 

But Richie covered Bill’s mouth with his hand before their lips touched, Bill making a frustrated noise underneath it. Richie grinned at him flirtatiously, feeling sick inside, but continuing anyway. 

 

“Now, now, Billy. Not so fast,” Richie purred, “I told you, I need to catch up with you first. Where’s your liquor stash in here? I’ll make us both something nice and tasty.”

 

Looking at him through hooded lids, Bill licked his lips and nodded, pointing to his desk. Richie moved off of Bill, winking at him, and then went to the large bottom drawer, finding multiple bottles ranging from tequila to rum to vodka, all opened and partially drunk. 

 

Pressure built around his eyes, a tingling sensation, as Richie could feel tears readying themselves. He willed them not to come; he’d cry once he took care of the situation. But Richie desperately hoped that Bill had just taken these from parties and not bought the bottles himself, opened them, and drunk them alone in his room. People only kept a secret cache like this when they knew they’d be judged for it.

 

“Alright, I gotta grab some tools from the kitchen and I’ll be back with something irresistible.”

 

By tools, Richie meant he was going to crush up some Benadryl in some juice and knock Bill out, while he dumped the actual alcohol down the drain. It was pretty easy, and worked very quickly. And after Bill was out, curled up onto Richie’s chest, tears started falling from his eyes, as Richie ran his fingers through Bill’s auburn hair.


	4. I Love You So, And That Is Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie confronts Bill about his drinking problems and it all comes spilling out.

It was the next day, a Sunday, and Richie was pacing in the living room, scared and angry. He was waiting for Bill to come out of his room, knowing they needed to have some kind of intervention immediately. Richie was still pissed at Bill for a lot of things, but he was more concerned with his friend’s health, as it seemed more and more likely that Bill was becoming an alcoholic. And that was something Richie wasn’t gonna let happen, his personal feelings be damned.

 

Walking out of his room, Bill probably didn’t expect Richie to be waiting for him, and certainly not as angrily as he was, but Richie launched right into him, not wasting any time. 

 

“Bill, what the fuck is going on?” Richie practically yelled, aggression and an accusation clear in his tone.

 

Before Bill can open his mouth to speak, Richie held up his hand and continued, “and don’t you dare try to lie and act like you don’t know. You keep getting hammered at every party you go to, and yesterday I caught you drinking here, alone in your room, until you could barely stand up. So tell me what it is. Right fucking now.”

 

Bill sighed and cast his eyes downward, guilt and shame clearly written on his face. “After we went to that p-party, a week ago, we came back home and you were pretty drunk and being flirtatious and stuff like you always are, but you’re worse when you’re drunk. And I was tipsy, but p-pretty coherent, since I had just been drinking beer mostly.”

 

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, before looking at Richie, who was uncharacteristically silent, but staring at Bill, the look in his eyes commanding his roommate to continue. 

 

“And I wanted to kiss you, but you were dr-runk, so I was trying not to. And then I put my hand on your face and t-took it away, but you grabbed it again and put it b-back. I was the one who g-g-gave you the hickeys you asked me about,” Bill admitted, looking like he might vomit out of disgust for his own actions. 

 

“So you lied to me about it the next day,” Richie stated, flatly. It wasn’t a question, Bill had just confessed this to be true, but a question lurked underneath.  _ Why did you lie? _

 

“Yeah, I did. I kissed you for awhile on the n-neck before I realized you had passed out. And then I realized how drunk you actually were, which made me f-feel horrible for taking advantage of you. A-and then you didn’t remember, so I figured I could just...pretend it didn’t happen,” Bill finished, self-hatred growing more evident with every revelation. 

 

Bill’s gaze had fallen again, and Richie saw a tear fall from his eyes and hit the floorboards. Sympathy pain filled Richie’s heart as he observed his friend, someone he loved, or was in love with, hurting so much. But there were still things that didn’t make sense, things they needed to clear up.

 

“I did remember,” Richie said softly, syllables mumbled together. 

 

His roommate’s head snapped up, and Bill wiped his tears away, as he asked, “what?” 

 

Bill had heard Richie, despite the low volume of his statement, but with all the feelings swimming around in his head, he hadn’t understood it. His question contained many others. 

 

_ How could that be true? Why did you ask me then? Why didn’t you say something? _

 

“In the morning, I thought I dreamed it. But then I had one of those nasty ass beers in the fridge and remembered tasting it when you kissed me. And then the bruises, obviously,” Richie said, giving Bill an accusatory look that was supposed to be humorous, but just ended up making both of them more sad. “And then you were pretty sober in the morning, so I figured it was probably true. But then you lied to me about it and immediately went on a date with that sorority bitch, so I figured that meant you regretted kissing Trashmouth and we were never talking about it again.”

 

Shaking his head, Bill corrected him, “no, no no, it didn’t have anything to do with it being you. That p-part was great, but….”

 

“Really, Bill? Was it fucking great?!” Richie interrupted him, angry now, yelling. The smile Bill had on his face from remembering fell instantly. “Then why didn’t you talk to me about it? And why did you go out with that fucking girl, if you’re so into me, huh?”

 

All of Richie’s pent up frustration transformed into kinetic energy, as he shoved Bill, hard enough to push him back, but not to knock him over. The act had a strange flavor of nostalgia, a bitter kind, reminding both men of their fight when they were just kids. But instead of continuing the reenactment, Bill just stood his ground, looking ashamed. 

 

They had gone back to the moment when Richie and Bill, best of friends, closer than all the other losers, understood each other the least. And both felt a nervous, cracking feeling inside, fear that the distance between them, only a few feet in reality, had turned into an ocean emotionally, while neither had noticed the drifting. Both men felt suddenly untethered, lost and alone, unable to chart their own course. And both wondered why it had to be like this.

 

Richie was surprised when Bill finally broke the silence, whispering so lightly, that he couldn’t even make out the words. When he asked his roommate to repeat himself, Bill glared at him, his hands shaking. 

 

“Because it had been what I wanted for months! And I thought maybe I still did, but once I went out with her, I tried to f-force myself to like it, to help get my mind off of you. But it didn’t work. So I broke up with her and then I got drunk at the New Year’s p-party because I kept wanting to kiss you or tell you I wanted to and reminding myself of what a shitty thing I did, and how you d-deserved better than me. And that’s why I was drinking alone in my room. Trying to drown my g-g-guilt out in alcohol and stop thinking about you.”

 

Neither knew when it started or why, but with every word spoken, the distance between them had slowly been closing. Now they were only inches apart, breathing the same air. “You’re a fucking idiot, Bill,” Richie whispered. 

 

Before Bill could even think to respond, he felt Richie’s lips on his, the kiss hard, forceful, almost angry. Despite the rough start, the kisses grew gentler with each touch, before they stopped altogether. They remained within kissing distance, though, foreheads resting on one another’s, panting breaths being swapped. 

 

“Bill, I know you feel bad about taking advantage of this hot piece of ass, but you stopped as soon as you realized I was out of it.” Bill’s hung his head immediately, but Richie scooped Bill’s face into his hands, pulling it back up to look into his eyes. 

 

“I trust you, Bill. I trusted you when we went into that sewer to kill a psychotic demon clown, even though I was still fucking mad at you for punching me. I trusted you in high school when I came out to you that I was bisexual and you were the first person I told. I trusted you to be my roommate here. I trust you with my fucking life, Bill. I always have and I always will.” 

 

“Really?” Bill asked, his eyes welling with tears of joy. “You forgive me? Because I….”

 

Richie stopped him with a finger on Bill’s lips, trailing it down his face as Bill stopped talking. “There’s been too much fucking talking, man. Please just kiss me so I know this is really happening.”

 

Bill obliged, not needing to be told twice. 


End file.
